


Medical Leave (the Brain Bleach remix)

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: remix_redux, Gen, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-15
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones makes a mental note to hang an emergency glass case of brain bleach in the infirmary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medical Leave (the Brain Bleach remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Medical Leave](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/729) by Miz. 



"So, there's something you're not telling me," Jim says over lunch.

"You're right," Bones agrees, chewing on a spoonful of something that's supposed to pass for corn. "You have horrible taste in alcohol. There, I said it. Frankly, my respect for you plummeted the day I realized you have no appreciation for truly excellent bourbon."

Jim smiles and squints, the way he usually does when he wants to communicate that he's the cleverest bastard in the room. "No, no, there's something else." He shoves another forkful of not-corn in his mouth. "I can feel it."

**

It's not that Bones wasn't used to seeing Spock in his infirmary first thing in the morning, it was just that he was not used to seeing Spock in his infirmary first thing in the morning.

"Can I help you?" Bones prompted. Spock seemed... 'uncomfortable' would be Bones' best bet, although he was still mostly at a loss when it came to figuring out Spock's moods and facial expressions.

"I'll need seven days of medical leave," Spock said. "Starting tomorrow."

Bones bit back _I'll be the judge of that_ because bitching people out for disregarding his authority as the Senior Medical Officer was not worth starting his day off with An Argument with Spock. The ship could only survive so many of those. "What's wrong?" he said, instead.

"I will be requiring seven days of medical leave," Spock said more slowly; if he were human Bones would say he was gritting his teeth. "It's a sensitive matter, so I'd appreciate your cooperation and discretion."

"And you think 'doctor' is Latin for 'we don't do any of that icky stuff'? I'm in charge of the ship as a whole, no one gets to pull 'sensitive' and keep me in the dark, it's too dangerous. Tell me what's wrong and I'll see what I can do."

Yes, it was unusual for Spock to ask for medical leave for no reason, but goddammit he wasn't going to start a precedent where senior officers could just trample all over him and keep all their fucked up space diseases quiet. These kinds of long term missions tended to have a big enough problem with STDs as it was. Not that that was likely to be Spock's problem since Bones couldn't imagine him so much as flirting with anything not made of wood. Not that wooden objects couldn't be used to transmit STDs and goddammit he was shutting down this train of thought _right the hell now_ before it turned into a bleach-requiring situation.

"With all due respect, doctor," Spock's tone indicated 'doctor' had been code for another word entirely. "This is a rather private matter, regarding Vulcan physiology, in which you have no experience. Your insights are irrelevant, and your questions are insulting and inappropriate."

"Well, since I know you're not due to enter your super special mating season any time in the next five years, I am _anxious_ to hear all about yet another fucked up, unmentionable aspect of Vulcan physiology." He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "Enlighten me."

**

"Bones?" Jim's voice comes over the comm.

"McCoy here," Bones says. "What is it?"

"Spock hasn't shown up for his shift. Any idea where he is?"

"He's on medical leave for the next week." Bones tries to sound casual enough to annoy Jim. "Sorry, Captain, the report must not have gone through." There's a long silence on the other end of the line; Bones can practically hear the wheels spinning in Jim's head. "Is there anything else?"

"No, bridge out."

**

Sometimes Bones woke up and went to work, and treated patients and took care of various administrative duties and went out for a drink afterwards and had an overall really pleasant day. Somehow that never happened on days when he had to deal with Spock.

After that initial conversation he'd had to update his List of Reasons Leonard McCoy's Life Sucks.

* The death of Vulcan had apparently fucked up everyone's life cycles and Vulcan males were now experiencing Pon Farr at irregular intervals. There were currently fewer than a half dozen humans in Starfleet who had genuine expertise in Vulcan physiology and Bones was set to become the newest member of that club, since Spock was pretty much at a loss himself and, whether he liked it or not, it was Bones' job to make sure he didn't explode halfway through a mission.

* Due to some creepy process Jim had gone through with an older, alternative-universe version of Spock, there was actually a good chance Spock's mating urges could be satisfied through sharing the beautiful gift of Pon Farr with Bones' best friend and the captain of the ship Bones currently inhabited.

* The fabled Vulcan propensity for logic had once again been exposed as a sham because, despite all of the above facts, Spock was not willing to let Bones inform Jim of what was going on, nor of the potential effects Jim could have on Spock's... issue. And worst of all, it appeared Bones had enough professional integrity to go along with it and value his patient's desire for confidentiality over his own sanity. For fuck's sake.

* His mind would eventually come up with a dozen explanations he _never actually wanted to imagine_ for the exact nature of the "connection" forged between Jim and Ambassador Spock. _For fuck's sake_.

**

Bones had planned it so Jim would have no choice but to go snooping in Spock's quarters at the first opportunity but goddammit he hadn't expected Jim's breathless, sated voice saying Bones' name over the comm. He makes a mental note to hang an emergency glass case of brain bleach in the infirmary.

"I need medical leave," Jim says, and Bones can practically hear him pouting.

"Fine, you have three days."

"I have to tell you, Spock is very demanding right now, I mean I can barely get him to let me pull out my fingers--"

"Fine, fine!" God sometimes he hates his goddamn life. "Take as long as you need but so help me God, Jim, if you make me listen to a single story about your magical vacation I will never--"

"Oops, gotta go, Bones, he's getting that hungry look in his eyes again." He hears Jim growl and the connection cuts off.

Bones decides he misses the days when what terrified him about space was the darkness and lack of oxygen and the high likelihood of these being the cause of his death.


End file.
